How to Please a Lady (6 page)

 

“Bucky, watch the foal. I'm going for a walk.”

Bucky, who was cleaning up the mess from the birthing, looked up, surprised. “You want me to watch her?”

“You're ready. And I need a walk.”

“I'd think you'd need your bed more than a walk,” he said. “When's the last time you slept?”

“I think I need a bath more than a bed,” Charlie said, looking down at his clothes. He'd washed the blood and fluids from his face and arms, but his clothing was still a sight. At the moment, though, he wouldn't have cared if he were covered in blood from head to toe. He couldn't stop thinking that something had happened yesterday, something between the duke and Lady Rose. If he was wrong, no harm. But if he was right, she would need him and he'd be damned if he didn't try to protect her.

Charlie went out the back of the stables through a small paddock, walking quickly to the railing and leaping over the fence effortlessly. All night, the image of Lady Rose's pale face had haunted him. Maybe he was a fool, maybe he was so much in love that he saw something where there was nothing, but his gut was telling him she should not be alone with the duke. The couple had been walking toward the path that led to the lake, and he was quite certain that's where they'd been headed. He cut through the forest, keeping his eye on the path, seeing occasional flashes of color from Lady Rose's yellow dress through the trees and brambles. He walked parallel to them, ignoring the prickers digging into ungloved hands and even through his thick pants. The brambles were a curse on this land, always making a stroll in the woods an uncomfortable affair.

He decided he would keep his distance until he was satisfied that she was safe. He had no business taking a stroll in the middle of the day, especially when a foal had just been born. The longer he followed them, the more foolish he felt. Clearly, they were only a couple taking a walk together. Was it real concern for Lady Rose that kept him going or his ridiculous jealousy? he wondered, trying to be honest with himself. The day was cool, but tramping through the woods without the benefit of a path was making him sweat from the exertion. The couple was, perhaps, a hundred yards from where he watched them, no doubt chatting about their upcoming nuptials. What the hell was he doing, following them? He was about to turn back to the stables in disgust, when they stopped in the path, then moved closer to the forest on the opposite side of the path from where Charlie stood, holding his breath, watching them. Then he recognized, even from that distance, the obvious movements of a man unbuttoning his pants. Holy God. And Lady Rose stood there, frozen. Terrified.

He'd kill the duke if he touched her.

In a matter of seconds, Charlie assessed the situation and weighed his options. He wanted her safe. He wanted the duke dead. But, of course, that could never happen. Charlie knew he would swing from the nearest gallows if he laid a hand on the duke. And so he did the next best thing—he started singing loudly and quite badly the first song he could think of.

“Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow—”

He stopped abruptly, as if shocked to find himself in the company of Lady Rose and His Grace, but wanted to whoop out in joy, for his ploy worked. The minute he started singing, the duke turned and made short work of buttoning his trousers and Lady Rose sagged with relief.

“I do beg your pardon, Lady Rose, Your Grace. I did not mean to offend your ears with my singing,” Charlie said good-naturedly.

“What the hell are you doing out here, boy?”

“Charlie is our head groom, Your Grace,” Lady Rose said, her voice shaking slightly, and Charlie used all his willpower not to make a fist.

“I don't care who he is and I certainly don't expect an introduction,” the duke said, his cheeks red, likely from anger or frustration. Charlie didn't give a damn.

“I'm actually glad to have stumbled upon you, Lady Rose. You see, Moonrise had a foal early this morning. I sent word to the house but you had already left on your walk. She's a lovely little filly. Would you like to see her?”

Lady Rose immediately looked to the duke as if asking permission, and Charlie tensed. If the duke denied her, what could he do? Join them on their walk? Insist that the lady return with him to the stable?

“I would so love to see her, Your Grace. Shall we?” And Lady Rose simply turned and began walking back to the stable, leaving the duke staring impotently at her back before glaring at Charlie and reluctantly following.

Charlie trailed behind, keeping a good distance between himself and the couple, but not so far as to let the duke believe they were alone. He stared at his back, wishing he could do more, wishing he could pummel the bastard within an inch of his life. Never in his life had he had such a strong urge to commit violence upon another man. He could picture himself smashing his fist into the duke's face, putting his hand around his throat and squeezing until the life seeped out of him. But Charlie realized he valued his own neck far more than the duke's. He whistled softly as they walked, his eyes never leaving Rose's slim form, his heart breaking for her. She'd looked so damned scared standing there. What if he hadn't followed them? What if he'd turned around? What would have happened?

As they neared the stable, Lady Rose picked up her pace, and Charlie jogged to catch up to the pair. He wanted to be there when she first set her eyes on the pretty little filly. She was nearly pure white, though she would certainly darken like her mother in a few months.

The three entered the stables, stopping momentarily to allow their eyes to adjust to the dimness of the interior. A tiny bit of orange fluff, one of five kittens from the latest litter, caught the corner of Charlie's eye as it wiggled its little bum, ready to pounce on its prey—His Grace's boot. The kitten pounced, and the duke looked down, annoyed.

“How sweet,” Lady Rose said, just before the duke shook the animal off him rather roughly.

Charlie scooped the kitten up and smiled reassuringly at Lady Rose, holding the creature against his chest before leading the couple toward the new foal, who was nursing enthusiastically and making small sucking sounds. Bucky stood outside the stall watching, and Charlie motioned his head, silently telling the younger man that he could leave.

“What a good mum she is,” Lady Rose said softly, her eyes filling with tears. “Such a pretty baby.” She turned to Charlie and smiled at him just as the duke stepped between them, blocking Charlie's view of Lady Rose.

“Charming,” the duke drawled. “Is this her first foal?”

“Yes,” Lady Rose said. “It's so wondrous, isn't it? How the foal knows just what to do and how Moonrise is so accepting of her. It's miraculous, really.”

The duke chuckled. “Hardly a miracle. Shall we return to the house?”

“I did wish to stay here and watch the foal for a bit more,” she said.

Charlie hung back, watching the couple, feeling uneasy and tense. It was strange to see her with a man, and stranger still to see her so subdued. This was not the woman he knew, the one who dashed in and out of the stable, who would take up a brush and begin grooming the nearest horse simply because she wanted to.

“But I wish to return to the house,” the duke said, his tone biting. “This outing has been less than pleasant and I certainly don't want to spend my day standing in filth and staring at a horse.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

The duke turned to leave and spied Charlie standing there, staring at him with clear dislike. “You, boy, don't you have duties to attend to?”

“The foal is my duty, Your Grace.”

The duke let out a beleaguered sigh. “The foal, the foal. No doubt if I don't let you stay, you will sulk. You may stay, Lady Rose, but I do expect to see you at luncheon. Surely you do not plan to eat out here.”

Lady Rose gave a small curtsy. “Of course, Your Grace. Thank you. I will see you for luncheon.”

Something snapped inside Charlie at that moment, though anyone looking at him wouldn't have known. It was as if a glass vial containing a black emotion he'd never before experienced shattered, allowing that dark poison to surge through his veins. Hatred, hot and dangerous. If Lady Rose hadn't been standing there, he was not certain he could have kept from launching himself at the duke and thrashing him within an inch of his life. As if sensing his thoughts, Weston gave Charlie a hard stare before leaving and Charlie stared right back.

“Count yourself fortunate that you are not in my employ, boy.”

“I do, sir, thank you.”

The duke's nostrils flared at the insult, but he left without another word.

After the duke left, Charlie carefully placed the kitten back on the ground and stood beside Lady Rose as she watched the foal. She was a sweet little filly, already sturdy on her skinny legs.

“Moonrise did well,” he said into the silence.

When Lady Rose didn't respond, he looked at her, dying a bit inside when he saw a tear trailing down one cheek. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.

“Charlie.” She turned her head to him, her hands still clutching the stall, pain so clear in her eyes it hurt. She shook her head and looked back at the foal.

“Is there something you wanted to say, my lady?”

Her breath hitched and she shook her head again, swallowing fiercely, as if trying valiantly not to cry. God, he wanted to draw her into his arms, to take her pain away, to tell her she would be all right. For a moment, it appeared she couldn't breathe at all, and then, in one swift movement, she launched herself against him, clutching at his shirt, her forehead pressed against his chest. “Oh, Charlie,” she cried, and began sobbing wetly against him as he stood there, arms akimbo, completely unsure what he should do.

“I can't, I can't,” she said over and over, until Charlie couldn't take it anymore. He put his hands on her shoulders, closing his eyes when he felt her slim body shaking with her cries.

“Shhh,” he said, not knowing what else he could say. He didn't know precisely why she was crying, but he had a feeling it had something to do with the ass she was expected to marry.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes and nose red from crying, and looked up at him, and it was all he could do not to bend his head and kiss away her tears. “I'm sorry,” she said, her voice thick.

“It's perfectly fine, my lady. I'm often called upon to comfort ladies who break into tears.”

She let out a watery laugh; then her eyes filled again. This time, she stepped back, out of his arms, and brushed the tears away with her gloved hands. “I'm just being silly. Just tired from all the festivities.”

She turned abruptly away to stare blindly at the foal, which was rooting around the hay curiously, its muzzle becoming covered with bits of straw.

“My lady,” Charlie said hesitantly. “Did something happen yesterday? Something . . . bad?”

She stilled. “Whatever could you mean?” If she hadn't looked so wretched, Charlie would have laughed aloud at her gallant attempt to pretend she hadn't just been in his arms sobbing.

“Did he hurt you?”
Please say no. Please, God, say no
.

But she let out a small sob and Charlie thought he'd go mad from the rage coursing through him. And then, the blood drained from his face when he saw purplish marks on her neck. “You're bruised,” he said, his voice shaking with a sickening combination of anger and horror.

“Am I?”

“Your neck. Jesus, like fingerprints. I'll kill the bastard.”

“No, no, Charlie,” she said, turning toward him again, her eyes wide, desperate. “It wasn't like that. He didn't . . .”

“He sure as hell did something. And I saw what he was doing today, my lady. I saw.”

“Oh, God,” she cried, covering her eyes with her hands. “It's not what you think. He . . .” She made a poor attempt at gathering herself together. She took a breath. And another. “I'm perfectly well, Charlie. Just prewedding jitters.”

Charlie recalled the previous day, Lady Rose coming into the stable, grabbing the whiskey, taking a mouthful. Spitting it out. Rinsing her mouth. And today, that bastard unbuttoning . . .

“I'll kill him.”

Her eyes flew wide. “No, Charlie. It was nothing. Nothing.”

It was his time to close his eyes briefly, because he didn't want her to see the violence coursing through him. He knew what that man had done to her. He couldn't imagine someone forcing a girl to do what the duke had obviously done, someone as sweet and lovely. “I'm so sorry, my lady. So sorry that happened to you.” He wanted to draw her into his arms, but he couldn't. He was the head groom, not her friend, not her anything. “You should tell your mother.”

“There is nothing to tell,” she said, her tone dead. “And if anything had happened, it wouldn't matter. Don't you see?” She lifted her chin. “Everyone is counting on me, on this marriage. I hardly think they'd care about anything as long as I was well enough to walk down the aisle.”

Charlie started to take a step toward her, but stopped himself. “They'd care, my lady.”

She shook her head. “I don't have a choice.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to beg her to go with him to America, but he remained silent, feeling nearly as helpless as she did.
Run away with me. Marry me
. Just having those thoughts created a wave of humiliation so strong he was staggered by it. Marrying the likes of him would only bring her more shame.

Instead, he said, “Tell your mum, my lady. Show her your neck.”